Round 33: Gods, Humans, Demons

Morril stood in the middle of the street, fully lifting her protective spells for the first time, allowing the rain to fall on her head, face, and lips. She tasted a bitter, astringent flavor, along with a foul stench resulting from a mixture of household waste and industrial debris—quite pungent at first. She looked down and saw her beautiful calf leather boots submerged in water. Why bother? She tried to walk with a “tap-tap” sound, unconcerned about the dirty water and mud splashing on the hem of her robe—strangely, she even felt a slight sense of relief.

Kayro and Phylgas were ahead. Her detection spells allowed Morril to “see” the distinct energy reactions within them, even from behind the houses. Huh? It seemed there was someone else… Morril’s gaze flickered, and she quickened her pace slightly.

“Why? I was away for just a short while, and you’ve already caused such a mess. Couldn’t you have waited for me to return?”

Before seeing her, she heard her voice—resembling the crackling of burning coal. Morril recognized it as a language often used by abyssal creatures. What was more striking was that when spoken by that female voice, all the harsh, grating syllables transformed into a soothing, melodic rhythm. Even though she clearly seemed annoyed, there was an underlying air of coquettish laziness.

Morril frowned. She turned the corner in a few steps—and sure enough…

A succubus. She stood there casually, exuding an allure that could captivate anyone—slim, rounded thighs, full, firm breasts, flawless skin, perfectly curved waist and hips. Even her bat-like wings on her back, the scales covering her elbows, and the horns hidden beneath her black hair all reflected the most sensual and tempting charm that chaos and evil could create.

“What can Pippi do? What can Pippi do?” the little demon chirped, flapping her wings in defense. “Besides, you weren’t away for just a short while…”

“Sister Morril!” Kayro turned his head and saw her.

The succubus also glanced over. “Morril? I’ve heard much of you… It’s not wise to approach a demon so stealthily.”

“You know me?” Her voice whispered in Morril’s ear, stirring her senses. Even the mage needed to steady herself. “So, you met him in the Abyss as well?”

“That’s right, but we were more than just acquaintances.” Dangerous desire flickered in the succubus’s eyes. “Ah, I was his companion in battle, his close friend. To put it less hypocritically—we were very intimate. You must be his companion in the Material World, right? To be blunt, your care for him doesn’t seem as perfect or thorough as mine.”

“Oh? Then it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Morril didn’t respond sharply like she did with Phylgas; instead, she greeted her openly. “I haven’t been introduced yet. Apologies, I’ve gone through many things with Forty-Seven, but he’s never mentioned you.”

The succubus smiled sweetly.

“Perhaps he thought it wasn’t necessary. What a coincidence—I never expected Miss Phylgas to be one of your companions too.” She glanced at the semi-hidden steel elf in the shadows. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Vadalia.”

“I’ve been asking around in the city, trying to find a way to help Miss Filgas.” The succubus walked gracefully, folding her wings. Though she had used her ability to change appearance to conceal her striking figure, her curves remained undeniably alluring. “I really didn’t expect Lord Forty-Seven to come to Seal City as well, and to end up in such a big conflict with a lady. Sigh, Pipi always messes things up. I really don’t know why I still tolerate it.”
“Hide and avoid trouble—Pipi has done that! And she did it well!” The Quasemage refused to accept blame. “It’s not my fault!”
“Alright, we can discuss how well you did later,” the succubus complained. “The priority now is that we can’t keep wandering the streets. We need to find a place to stay. A hotel? Or…”
“Vadalia.”
“Hm? What is it, Miss Morriel?”
“I have no other intentions and don’t want to cause any misunderstandings,” the female mage stepped forward to walk beside her. “But I think you can understand what I’m trying to say. You’re a succubus from the Abyssal Depth—why would you help Filgas? She was fleeing from the Abyssal Depth, and it seemed like she had provoked some very powerful demons.”
“I understand,” the succubus’s expression struck a perfect balance between indifference and hurt. “I’m a succubus—so it’s my fate to tempt mortal souls, drain their life force, and reach orgasm by watching countless beings suffer in despair. If I say I helped her because I like her and can’t bear to see such a beautiful person suffer, you’d surely laugh at me, right?”
She turned around, walking backward with her hands behind her back. “Yes, demons aren’t that noble. Filgas had to pay a heavy price to bribe me. No, that won’t work—because I’d just defeat her, steal her money, and dig out her heart as well… You people from the Material World. I admit, some of you know a lot about the various planes, the Abyssal Depth, and different demons, and you always manage to have the upper hand when facing us.”
“But you don’t love us. You don’t care about what a demon thinks or what she wants. You only believe that by putting a bridle on a demon like a donkey, tightening the reins, and hanging a carrot in front of her head, she’ll obey and work hard. But we’re different. We love the Abyssal Depth, we love elves, we love humans, and even all creatures in the multiverse—of course, except for those stubborn Bartzu scum. Tell me, why can’t you appreciate and love me without prejudice, like Lord Forty-Seven?”
Love a demon? Good heavens. The succubus spouted a bunch of nonsense without a single truthful word. If you meet a devil who genuinely helps you, there’s surely a scheme behind it; but if you meet a demon who truly helps you… Do such creatures as “genuinely helpful demons” exist in the multiverse?
“You’d better pay attention when gossiping behind people’s backs,” Filgas’s voice came from above. The steel elf, who had been walking on the ceiling, spoke coldly.

Aponi? Reminded by her, Morriel noticed the thin figure approaching from the other side.
It’s strange… she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would change her mind. As the prostitute got closer, Kayro let out a soft “ah,” and the female mage also noticed something odd about her.
Aponi still had that stubborn, depressed look, her whole body dirty, but her eyes were as black as ink.
“Come with me. Someone wants to see you.”
The succubus glanced at those abyssal eyes and subtly recoiled. “Be careful. I think something’s wrong with her.”
“There’s already been enough weirdness lately.” Morriel shook her head and followed the prostitute.
Arrogant, stubborn… that’s why I hate mages too. She’ll suffer sooner or later, believe it or not? The succubus used telepathy to send a message to the imp.
I don’t believe it! She’s not like that idiot we met last time! Pipi rolled her eyes in mockery.
Aponi led them to a house by a small square. The house was magnificent—with large floor-to-ceiling windows, bright lighting, pointed arches, and patterned tiles… standing out sharply from the surrounding shabby huts.
“Sister Morriel, I… I guess I won’t go in?” Kayro said softly.
“Be brave, Kayro.” Morriel’s soothing voice seemed to carry some magic, relaxing the girl’s tense brows. “It’s not you who should be afraid.”
Leaving the others waiting in the living room, Aponi took the female mage upstairs.
Sure enough, what awaited her was a set of brand-new, shiny clothes and shoes, a pale face typical of a nobleman, and slightly wavy black hair falling over her shoulders—wrapped in an O’Sullivan.
“We meet again, dear Morriel.” O’Sullivan wore an elegant smile. “Thank you, this beautiful lady.”
As he spoke, the blackness faded from Aponi’s eyes and burned in the former count’s eyes instead.
“I… you bastards!”
Free from mental control, Aponi instantly understood what was going on. Offended, she did something that shocked Morriel—she slapped the count right in the face.
“Running into you guys is pure misfortune!” She glared fiercely at the female mage before storming out, slamming the door behind her.
O’Sullivan’s smile stiffened slightly after being slapped, but he quickly adjusted it to look as if he’d just been kissed by a lover. “A smile wins hearts—it’s the secret to making friends.”
“…Great prince, your generosity truly impresses me.” Morriel spoke sincerely. She knew very well that this O’Sullivan wasn’t just O’Sullivan. She had seen him on her return from the shattered glacier, remembering that icy, oppressive, all-consuming, murderous majesty—yet now he was nothing but a scoundrel who didn’t pay after having sex, with a red mark on his face!

“It doesn’t matter; it doesn’t hurt anyway.” The God of Murder attached to the count returned to his seat behind the table, raised his hand to tidy his hair, acting like a frivolous and extravagant nobleman: “Miss Moriel, you surely dislike the tedious formalities of exchanging pleasantries about the weather right at the start of a meeting… So let’s get to the point. It seems the troubles you encountered in the City of Ten Thousand Doors have troubled you greatly, right?”
“Great Prince, have you been watching me secretly?” This place was clearly not Xeric’s office, and there was no room in the City of Marks for the Dark Sun Church to cause trouble, so the answer was obvious.
“Don’t put it so bluntly, Moriel,” the Prince of Murder said with a wider smile on his thin lips. “I’m not a stalker. But do you remember? We have a deal. Now that my partner is in big trouble, how can her accomplice just stand by?”
“Oh? So you can get forty-seven…”
“That’s beyond my power,” Xeric, who resembled O’Sullivan, interrupted the female mage, saying regretfully, “I’m sorry. The help I can offer you this time is very limited—just some advice at most.”
“I don’t want to talk much about that woman,” he said with a mysterious expression, his eyes glowing with dark fire, making him even more eerie. “I don’t know much either… After all, I’m just a newly appointed God of Murder, not a God of Creation.”
“Some say she’s a goddess, some say she’s a demon, and others say she’s just an illusion. Who knows? I really can’t figure it out. Her blade can tear a person to pieces in an instant, and that’s just the beginning. What’s truly terrifying about her is that she can tear apart parts of the City of Marks’ space-time at will and turn them into labyrinths. Those who defy her get trapped inside, powerless to resist—even gods aren’t spared. Amazing, right? Even here, I have to tread carefully and dare not wander around. Although she can’t leave the City of Marks, she’s the top ruler here.”
“A labyrinth? That’s incredible. Where is it?”
“Please use the plural. Everyone lives in a single room. Since it’s life imprisonment, do you think she’d kindly let them gather together to chat for comfort? It might be in the Aether Realm; I’m not sure. You won’t be able to find it—the multiverse is vast. Besides, the City of Marks is older than any history of gods I know. Who knows how many people she’s trapped inside over the years. Of course, not all news is bad. I can assure you that every labyrinth has an exit. It’s just extremely hard to find, and that tiny hope only magnifies the prisoners’ suffering—her punishment is a long ordeal.”
“If there’s a way out, then has anyone ever escaped the labyrinth?”
“At least one,” Xeric said, stroking his chin and gazing upward in thought, seemingly lost in memories of the distant past. “The strongest mortal in history… I only learned about him after becoming a god. What an incredible guy.”
“I think your metal hero has similar potential. Don’t worry, don’t frown. Look, a god here assures you that you’ll reunite soon. I have a strong feeling about it, really.”

Morril was speechless with laughter. The succubus spoke of love, Xyrik talked of premonitions—why did she keep running into such utterly unreliable things all day long?
“Trust me, I’m trying to help you. I can help you leave Markmark City—that’s something I can do. You shouldn’t stay here any longer,” emphasized the God of Murder. “You’ve already angered the Lady once; with just one more small incident, she might decide to take action. Then I’ll truly be powerless, and the Lady controls all the portals in the city—surely you don’t want the other side of those portals to be the bedroom of the Balor Demon?”
“After you reunite with him, I’d like to ask you to ask him to do me a favor. It doesn’t have to be rushed, but to be honest, what you’ve done this time really scared me too. Consider it a return favor—I also need to test its effectiveness.”
Xyrik produced an object as if by magic. With just one glance, the female mage knew it had something to do with Forty-Seven. It was a metal strip about three feet long and as wide as a palm, glowing with a soft light, incredibly intricate and delicate—upon closer inspection, one could even see countless gears slowly turning within it. She was almost certain that the Ironman’s first reaction upon seeing it would be to try to steal it.
“I believe only you can get him to help me, rather than fighting me over it,” Xyrik said, as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve completed most of the work; all that’s left is to inject a little energy to activate it… It’s nothing at all for him. With the friendship I’ve offered, it should be no problem, right?”
“What is this? Please forgive me, Your Highness. But I must ask clearly,” Morril replied cautiously. “Otherwise, I doubt I can persuade him. It seems to be…”
“That’s right. I made it from the remnants of ancient constructs. As for what I plan to use it for, it doesn’t hurt to tell you. It’s not some huge secret—far less expensive than the measurements of Goddess Shal.”
The God of Murder’s face once again showed an unnatural calm before a storm: “I have a plan… a plan to take on the gods. Morril, what do you think gods are?”
“Gods aren’t things. Your reaction is still not fast enough, Morril. Anyone else would say the same thing.” Xyrik suddenly burst into a fake smile. “But he’s right! There’s actually a lot in common between him and your friend. Let me ask you something, Morril. Do you worship Mystra, the Goddess of Magic? Do you pray to her, attend her churches, or hold rituals to praise her? Among the mages you know, does anyone do that?”
“Of course not. Magic is a mystery that requires dedicating one’s whole heart and soul to explore, not a gift,” the female mage replied quickly this time.
“That’s it. Who would worship some brat? While the Archmage of the Magic Empire traveled the world in his floating city, she was just a village girl herding sheep. But that doesn’t stop her from becoming one of the most powerful gods in our world—because by studying and using magic, she proves its existence, proves the existence of its representative in the world—Mystra.”

“You must have heard the saying that God is faith. That’s true, but what exactly is faith? Take my example—the fools in the Dark Sun Church. Count them one by one—how many of them truly believe in me? They worship me, revere me, only because I can give them power, because I can creep into their minds in the dead of night and drive them mad! What do they believe in? It’s obvious: murder, lies, conspiracies, deceit, strife. They believe in using these despicable methods to seize what they want and satisfy their desires! Hidden blows, knives from behind, poisoned wine in cups… This is my true essence, the essence of a God of Murder. Anything the gods refuse to give, you can take for yourself. I’ve done this myself, which is why I ended up in this position after those turbulent years.”

“But what the hell is the point of it? I gave up everything on my path to power. I believe no one in my era could do better than me. I am the greatest! I am the King of Murder! I believe I’m the only choice! But once I actually became a god, I realized this is some shitty job that any street thug could handle!”

As he spoke, Xyrik became enraged once again, just like during their last meeting: “Bullshit! Divine realms, divine power, divine grace—everything is bullshit! Wives murdering their husbands, ministers framing their colleagues, adventurers leaving their companions alone in despair to die—does this need my guidance? It’s instinct! Survival means tearing apart those around you! Is the purpose of gods to sit in some quiet place all day answering prayers, acting like warehouse keepers? Others might not care, but I won’t accept it! I won’t settle for this! If there really is an existence above the gods, I’ll make them know that if they made me a god, they shouldn’t have left me my humanity!”

“I’ll tell you some secrets, secrets about the gods. A bunch of scum, more degenerate than anyone else. The God of Storms, Thalos, enjoys bullying women—Ambori, the Goddess of the Ocean, and Eulyr, the Frost Maiden, are both victims, though they weren’t exactly good people either. Mistrà and the God of Death, Kellanwo, were once mortal lovers, but after becoming gods, they turned against each other because Mistrà kept descending to Earth to seduce powerful mages—she had seven or eight illegitimate daughters! Amonra is nothing but an incompetent old scoundrel! Otherwise, why are so many kind-hearted people willing to sacrifice themselves for justice, while his favorites are a bunch of beautiful, unmarried lesbian girls? The Elven and Nature Gods? I don’t even want to mention them! Ever since Rose left, they’ve had no decent women left—let those druids fuck trees!”

“It’s so fucking disgusting. Just looking at them makes me annoyed, so I’m going to smash their parties to pieces!” The God of Murder glared fiercely. “This is what I’m going to do—this will help me achieve my goals. I’ll prove to the entire multiverse that I’m not just some glowing skull symbol! I am Xyrik! I’m unique, the one who created the world!”

Morrill couldn’t help but cough. She really wanted to ask if the prince’s madness stemmed from not being invited to balls—but clearly that wasn’t a good idea.
“Think about it some more,” Xyrik finally calmed down, pulling out a white handkerchief to wipe his face. “Take a bath, change of clothes, and get some rest. You’ve been up all night, right? Judging by the little girl beside you, has Lady Mist risen again? She’s quite skilled. But she can forget about taking complete control of that girl’s body and mind again. Maybe she used some sweet talk… that’s her strongest skill. I can help you deal with her. By the way, I heard there are executions in the square every morning. It’s nice to be human—you can even watch entertainment while having breakfast.”
“Thank you, great prince,” Morrill bowed slightly. “I’ll try to help you. Actually… I think you don’t need to go to such lengths with me. If you just tell him you want to defy the gods, he might be happy to serve you.”
“Why? The battles between gods aren’t trivial matters.”
“Who knows? He does resemble you quite a bit,” the female mage smiled gently. “Some people crave wealth, some value loyalty, and some simply enjoy watching the world burn.”